


The A-List

by HeatOfTheImpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 80s AU, Angst, M/M, Photographer!Dean, Singer!Cas, famous!cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatOfTheImpala/pseuds/HeatOfTheImpala
Summary: Castiel Novak is just 19 years old when he gets his big break. Dean is 23 and still searching for his. Despite the negative media attention, Dean develops a fascination with the young star and tries his best to correct the rumours surrounding him and his lifestyle. As the two grow closer, rumours spread and mistrust between the two rises to the surface. When Cas is pushed to the limit, will Dean's help be enough to save him?





	1. Prologue

Looking back, Dean thought, it was his mom who had started all of this.

Summer 1969, the weekend they’d spent at the beach. He couldn’t explain it if anyone asked, but that whole summer his 10-year-old mind was fascinated by the art of photography. He’d begged his dad for a camera the whole journey to the coast, eventually receiving one from his Mother on the second night of their trip. She presented it to him with a keep quiet gesture, and he’d happily obliged. He’d run down onto the sand, camera in hand, taking pictures of anything and everything he could. When the time came to go home he’d used up every inch of film, bouncing in his seat the whole journey at the thought of seeing the fruits of his labour once they’d been processed.

He still remembered the day they collected the prints, him and his mom in the front seat of the Chevrolet. He looked through the negatives interestedly, holding them to the light to see the small previews of what was to come. He could’ve cried when he saw the real things.

The pictures were blurry and messy, the magic and excitement Dean had felt while he photographed them not evident in the final product. His lip started to shake, as he stuffed the photos back into the wallet and handed them to his mother. He stared out of the window and willed himself not to cry as Mary flipped through the photos, grateful they’d decided to come out without his Dad.

“Can we put this one on the fridge?” She asked softly after a moment.

Dean sniffed, forcing himself to look over to her. She held up one of the pictures he’d taken the morning before they left. His little brother, Sam, sat centre frame, grinning to the camera with his hands buried writs deep in sand. His tongue poked through the gap in his teeth where he’d lost one and his eyes were only just open from the sun. Dean couldn’t help but smile a little back at him. “I like this one” He said quietly.

Mary leaned over, kissing his temple and looking at the photo with him for another moment. “You keep that one sweetheart” She told him. “And just remember, you’re always capable of more than you think” She squeezed his knee gently, putting the rest of the photos into her bag and starting up the car.

Even now, at almost 60 years old, Dean still kept the photo in his wallet. The edges were frayed beyond repair and the fold lines were held together with tape, but he didn’t need to look at the photo to know what it stood for. The picture was still etched into his mind as clear as the day he took it. For years, he’d reserved that it was the best photo he’d ever taken.

It wasn’t until he was 24 that he took one better. He kept that one too, tucked inside the stitching of his wallet. It was 2015 now, he didn’t need to hide it like he did back then, but old habits die hard. Three wallets had come and gone since those days and he’d moved both pictures into each new one, never opening them to look, just keeping them to remember.

So, Dean thought, if he was looking for someone to blame in all of this, he supposed it all started with his Mother. The moment he’d received that camera, he was marked. It was the camera that led him to his career; and his career that led him to Castiel.

And it was Castiel that led him here.

Sitting alone in a dressing room, more than 30 years after that first meeting.

“Mr Winchester, they’re ready for you” A woman’s voice from the door told him.

Dean took a deep breath, checking his appearance in the mirror one last time. He placed his hand over the wallet in his pocket, taking a moment to let it comfort him.

_Time to make you proud, Cas._

Another breath, and he followed the woman out to the stage.


	2. What's The Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, ok so... It's been a hot minute. Apologies for disappearing for so long, things got crazy for a while but I'm trying to get back into a few of my hobbies, writing being #1. Second apologies that this is probably not my best work, it has been over a year since I've published anything after all but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things by continuing something I already had in the works.   
> As always, any feedback is appreciated and many thanks to those who waited patiently for us to start this story for real.

_17 th January 1982_

Dean hated this, he decided very quickly. The endless flashing of the cameras was blinding, even if he did only have one eye open. Even watching through his lens, he was disoriented. He reminded himself yet again that he was only using this job as a stepping stone for bigger, better things. He seemed to be doing that a lot more frequently recently. In his dreams, he wrote for big magazines, taking photos for his own articles and telling his own stories. In reality, he was lucky if he even got to choose a tagline for the meaningless pictures he handed over each week.

This week, they needed pictures of some new up and coming pop singer. It was the same every month, and never usually amounted to anything, but his manager was sure this time that this kid was going to be _something big_. By the looks it, he wasn’t wrong either. Cameras were raised left and right, and Dean had to muscle his way to the front to make sure he had a clear shot. If this story was going to flop, he could at least make sure it wasn’t his crappy pictures that caused it. If it weren’t for his pay check, he would have hoped it flopped anyway. He saw this all too often, a young and up and coming star ruined by constant media attention. He hated being a part of the group of low lives that systematically built up and destroyed these kids, documenting it for the world to see at every step of the way.

Dean couldn’t help but be taken aback at his subject as he stepped into view. The kid looked fresh out of high school, if he even finished high school that is. The older man couldn’t tell if he was freshly shaven or waiting on his facial hair to even come in. As expected, he seemed startled by all the attention, his blue eyes looking even wider by the second. Unlike the other kids Dean saw though, he didn’t immediately begin to revel in it. There was no ego, no inflated confidence that so often destroyed these kids before they’d even started out. No, this kid seemed genuine, and more so than that, he seemed terrified. Dean had to push down his older brother instinct to step in and help him.

“Castiel!” A reporter called, and the boy’s head snapped around, the deer in the headlights look depleting - if only slightly. _Castiel_. Dean repeated over in his head. It was unusual, but somehow it fit. Like this kid couldn’t be called anything normal for fear of being too incongruous to his whole personality.

The dark-haired boy made his way over to the woman who had called his name, followed closely by a much older man who Dean could only assume was a bodyguard, or close family. Those seemed to be the only people these young celebrities were ever out with. It was sensible in some respects, friends and significant others were only subject to even more invasive questioning. If there were a woman on his arm Dean had no doubt he’d be trampled by the rest of his reporting crowd to interrogate her first.  He couldn’t hear what the pair were talking about, but he did notice Castiel wasn’t doing much of the talking. The older man held his elbow firmly as if to keep him from fleeing the scene as his eyes betrayed that he so desperately wanted to.

“Oh, there’s certainly more in the pipelines” The older man grinned, nudging the boy’s elbow to prompt his response.

“Uh huh” Castiel nodded, his eyes still straying around him at the lights and other reporters shouting his name. I occurred to Dean at that moment that he was yet to take a photograph and he groaned internally at the dressing down he was going to get later from his bosses for that. Alistair, editor in chief, liked to have _every_ moment captured on film. He snapped a few pictures, getting a better look at the boy’s face through the camera lens as he zoomed. He’d have to spin a good story on this, the expression on his face in every photo made Dean feel invasive even having them on his camera.

Just as soon as he’d arrived, the boy was being pulled away again into the waiting car. Again, reporters clamoured, some going as far as to step in front of the car to keep it from moving away too quickly, others taking photos of registration plates and other distinguishing features. His Father had worked around cars all his life and Dean become familiarised to most makes and models, so he was sure he’d have no trouble recognising this one again if he saw it. Not that he would go as far as to stalk the kid, like some others around him would.

The boy didn’t stop to pose for another photograph, desperate to get inside the car and away from all the commotion. He opened the door barely enough for himself, presumably not to let other unwanted guests inside with him. Dean wouldn’t have noticed if he were looking through his lens at the boys face like most others were, but he saw something slip out of the boys pocket as he stepped inside and instinctively pushed past the others to get to it.

A gold chain lay on the kerb and he was relieved he got to it before anyone else did, lord knows they wouldn’t have been as honest about it. Dean stuck his hand into the door to catch it just as the boy pulled it closed. He looked up, chain in hand to be greeted by a face almost as startled as when he’d first seen him exit the car.

“You uh- dropped this, sorry” He apologised, handing the chain to the younger man. His expression quickly changed to one of shock, followed by great relief.

“Oh! Oh, thank you umm-“ He paused.

“Dean”

“Dean” He nodded. “Thank you very much Dean, this is very important to me”

“Castiel” The older man snapped again.

“Sorry, Father” Castiel responded, giving Dean a sympathetic look before he pulled the door closed again, and the car sped away.

#

The next time Dean saw Castiel was almost a week later.

He received the usual beratement from Alistair, as he had expected, but on top of that he still couldn’t come up with a story for the select few photos he managed to grab. Or from his whole experience if he was being honest. Castiel himself was hard to put a finger on, but the vibe he got from the older man who had turned out to be his father was even stranger. As he usually did after a heavy day at work, he drove himself to the Roadhouse for a beer and maybe a game of pool if any of his old drinking buddies turned out tonight. Unlikely, he thought, he was the only one he knew that had to go drown his sorrows every night of the week.

Castiel was not someone he expected to see in a dive bar like this, and he almost wouldn’t have noticed him if he weren’t sat alone at the bar when the boy came to order a round for him and his friend.

“Hey, you’re uh- we met” Dean commented, aware that he may not want the attention from the other customers. Not that there were many. Wednesday nights were usually pretty quiet.

Castiel met his eyes, his brow furrowing as the thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yes we uh- Yes” He agreed.

“I’m off shift, don’t worry I don’t want any pictures of you” Dean assured him.

“I can see that” Castiel nodded to the beer in his hand. He was stiff again, his demeanour almost hostile so Dean thought it best not to press the issue.  

“Nice necklace” He commented, nodding to the gold chain under his shirt that he assumed was the same one he’d rescued from the sidewalk a few days prior.

“Thank you again” The boy nodded. “It was my Mother’s but uh, I’m not supposed to wear it to press events and such” He explained, and then gave a look that suggested he was worried he’d said too much.

“Secret’s safe with me” Dean smiled, trying to reassure him as best he could.

“Ok well uh, I should go my brother’s waiting” He nodded, taking the two bottles of beer in one hand and pulling out a five with the other. “Your next drink’s on me” He told him, the slightest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Thanks man, much appreciated” Dean nodded graciously, taking the money from him.

“Thanks again Dean, maybe I’ll see you here again sometime” He added, almost hopefully.

“I hope so” The older man nodded, taking another sip of his beer and wondering if that was a smile he saw just before Castiel turned on his heel and walked back to the table.

The question on his mind for the rest of the night was the same one that plagued him every time he sat down to try and write his article.

_What the hell is this kid’s story?_


End file.
